


Batter My Heart

by Melibe



Series: The New Plan [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Beelzebub Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Beelzebub (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Gabriel Has a Penis (Good Omens), Hair-pulling, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Jealousy, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Top Gabriel (Good Omens), Topping from the Bottom, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, but Gabriel doesn't know that, flies, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melibe/pseuds/Melibe
Summary: Gabriel hates this, thisunfairness. Beelzebub got all riled up over some silly human trying to flirt with him, even though they don’t really care about him, just want to hoard him like a shiny toy. And here is Gabriel in fucking love with them, and they cry outthatname while he’s touching them, and then they have the gall to not even understand why he’s upset.(In which Beelzebub accidentally swears by Satan while hooking up with Gabriel, and ragefucking ensues.)
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: The New Plan [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569919
Comments: 40
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after writing [Let Me Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283632/chapters/53217931) I kept wondering what the sex was like _before_ they had any semblance of a healthy relationship. Thus, this fic. In my head, it's set early in [Playing Games](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20203495/chapters/47873587), but you don’t really need anything from that fic for this one to make sense.
> 
> Be warned, they're not very nice to each other here.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you have the most amazing eyes.”

Gabriel looks at the woman who just spoke. A few minutes ago, she took a spot at the hotel bar next to him and ordered a drink, all the while glancing over as if expecting him to speak to her. He didn’t see any reason to, but now human etiquette dictates a response. He says, “Thank you.”

She dips her head, sips from her glass. “Sorry. I’m sure you get comments on them all the time.”

“Not really.” Angels don’t tend to discuss their physical appearances, unless there’s a need for constructive criticism. But from what Gabriel can tell, humans enjoy it. Maybe he should try to blend in. He looks for something to comment on, and comes up with, “Your earrings are very sparkly.”

“Yeah they are,” she says with a laugh. “I had a hell of a week, one client nightmare after another, so I put on all my shiniest things for a treat tonight. What about you—what brings you here?”

“I’m meeting someone.” He’s never had to wait for them this long, but then again, this is the poshest place he’s ever invited them to. The floors are polished to a mirror shine, and live orchids are arranged artfully around gleaming leather couches. Maybe he offended their sensibilities. Or maybe the bellhop wouldn’t let them in.

The woman looks disappointed. “Ah, a friend?”

Gabriel is pretty sure Beelzebub would hate to be called his friend. He can think of other things he’d like to call them, things that Beelzebub would hate even more, like _partner_ or _lover_. He shuts down that line of thinking and replies, “A colleague.”

“I see.” She brightens and sticks out her hand. “I’m Sofia, by the way.”

“Gabriel,” he says with a vigorous handshake. Sofia is aesthetically pleasing, he decides. Coppery brown skin, dark glossy hair bobbed around her ears, lipstick almost as shiny as her earrings. She has a few unsightly pimples, but she’s only human, after all.

“Can I buy you a—oh!” Sofia cuts herself off with a startled cry. “There’s something crawling on me!” She slaps at her arms, then her face. “It’s like bugs or—ah! Shit!” She begins scratching her neck.

Gabriel frowns. He can’t see anything that could be bothering the poor woman. Perhaps it’s a spontaneous hallucination? He’s about to reach out and attempt a healing when a familiar voice interrupts.

“Hello, Gabriel.”

He spins around on his stool, and his mouth actually falls open. Beelzebub is _stunning_. They’re in a black silk shirt with long sleeves, stylishly shredded. A pale blue vest fits snugly over the shirt, bringing out the color of their eyes, and their slacks are some kind of metallic fabric that shimmers between indigo and violet. Their hair is styled asymmetrically, undercut on the left and sweeping to their shoulder on the right. The toes of their black boots are sharp enough to kill.

Gabriel isn’t nearly done looking when another shriek from Sofia draws his attention. He turns back to her and waves his hand to remove Beelzebub’s curse. “Feeling better?”

The woman nods and leans heavily against the bar. She lifts her glass, drains it, then gives Gabriel a shaky smile. “God, that was weird. Anyway, is this your colleague? Hi, I’m Sofia.” Her smile fades as Beelzebub stalks over, leaning much too close.

“Went a bit overboard, Gabriel, didn’t you? Even got rid of her zzzits.”

“Oh, are they gone?” asks Sofia. Her hand flutters up to touch her face. She’s making a valiant effort to interpret this situation as normal. “Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up. Gabriel, let me know if you’d ever like that drink.” She slips a card out of her purse and holds it out, then yells as it combusts in her hand.

“He doezzn’t drink,” says Beelzebub.

Sofia fumbles a piece of ice from her glass with scorched fingers. “What the hell—what kind of—”

“Stop that,” snaps Gabriel. He heals the injury with another quick miracle, clearing up Sofia’s allergies while he’s at it. Then he grabs Beelzebub by the wrist and pulls them away from the bar before they can wreak any more havoc.

He hears the demon take a quick breath and feels their arm tense, and only then does he realize that his fingers are touching their skin through the slashed sleeve. He’s angry enough that the contact must be scalding.

Without letting go, Gabriel marches to the elevators and pushes the call button. While they wait, he slides his thumb deliberately over Beelzebub’s bare wrist. Watching them out of the corner of his eye, he notes the color that rises to their cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet their lips.

He’s hurting them, and they like it.

It’s been less than a year since he learned how Beelzebub reacts to pain, with instant arousal and craving for more, and he’s still captivated by the novelty of it. He strokes two fingers over the back of their hand, eliciting a shiver. He smiles.

When the elevator arrives, they step inside, and Beelzebub attacks him the second the doors close. They practically climb up his body to press their lips to his, locking one arm around around his neck and burying their other hand in his hair.

Gabriel takes a few moments to enjoy the kiss, then pries the demon off. He sets them a few inches away, holding their upper arms to keep them there. He wants to look his fill.

Beelzebub doesn’t have any flies with them today, and if Gabriel were perfectly honest, he’d have to admit he misses the little buzzers. They’re part of Beelzebub, after all. But even without their flies, the demon lord is drop-dead gorgeous. The baby blue of that vest is the most innocent color he’s ever seen on them, yet the way it hugs their body is positively indecent. _Sinful_.

God help him, he’s jealous of a vest.

And on the subject of jealousy . . . “You monster,” he scolds, giving Beelzebub a little shake. “Why were you so mean to that poor woman? She was trying to be friendly.”

“Friendly, my azz.” Beelzebub growls low in their throat. “Zhe wazz trying to take what’z mine.”

Gabriel’s heart gives an uncertain flip. He’s never heard Beelzebub talk like this, and he’s not sure what to make of it. Oh, he knows what he _wants_ to make of it. Words like _commitment_ and _monogamy_ float through his head. But that isn’t practical, isn’t even possible for a demon. Beelzebub is acting possessive because they’re greedy and selfish, that’s all. It isn’t something he should encourage.

So he asks coolly, “Oh, am I yours, now?” 

“Yezz,” they buzz, lunging for him again, but he holds them back. Before it can turn into a real fight, the elevator dings and the doors open.

Gabriel drops his hands and leads the way to the room he reserved. He swipes a keycard, incorrectly, but the door unlocks anyway because he expects it to. He holds it open for Beelzebub. “After you, my prince.”

“Enjoy the view,” they quip, sweeping past him into the room.

And since he was invited to, he does. Their outfit is at least as stunning from the back, those iridescent slacks stretched across their lovely ass, accentuated by the perfect cut of the vest. He takes a deep, steadying breath as he follows them inside.

It’s a luxurious room, obviously, with a king-size bed, tasteful art, and subdued lighting. Gabriel removes his socks and shoes and stows them neatly in the closet. “You were late,” he observes.

“That’zz your excuzze for chatting her up?” Beelzebub glares. “Alzzo, are we going to fuck or not?”

“She was the one who chatted me up,” corrects Gabriel, taking off his jacket and tie. This jealous side of Beelzebub is throwing him for a loop. He keeps hearing them say, “what’z mine.” He wants to ask if they mean “mine” like spoils of war, or “mine” like human lovers. _Don’t ask, you won’t like the answer,_ he tells himself. _Just give them what they want, they’ll keep coming back._ “And yes. When I’ve decided how to deal with you.”

“How to _deal_ with me, nizze.” They snort and wander over to the minibar, fishing out a bag of candy. Then they fling themselves onto the bed, tear it open, and start to eat.

Gabriel frowns. “You shouldn’t eat in bed. You’ll get the sheets messy.”

“I thought that wazz the point.” Beelzebub makes a big show of licking their fingers, smearing chocolate around with their tongue, then wiping them off on the white comforter.

The archangel plucks the candy out of their hands and puts it on the nightstand. “Stop provoking me.”

“Give me zzomething elze to put in my mouth, then.” They kneel up on the bed and grab his shirt with dirty fingers, recklessly popping buttons.

He lets Beelzebub take the shirt off, lets them trace his chest with their hands and tongue. He listens to the hungry little sounds that fall from their lips and convinces himself that it’s good, it’s enough. He cups their face and kisses them again, holding their head in place while they squirm with the heat of his tongue on their lips, his thumbs on their cheeks.

Then he pulls back so he can unbutton their vest. “You dressed up for me, Beelz,” he says softly.

They sneer at him. “Drezzed up for thizz fanzzy-azz hotel.”

“Is that why you don’t have any flies with you?” He feels a little guilty, wondering if his choice of venue made Beelzebub’s tiny attendants feel unwelcome. But then, that’s part of this game they play, isn’t it? With the war cancelled, they have to find other ways to antagonize each other.

Beelzebub shucks their vest impatiently. “Do you want to talk about fliezz or do you want to take my clothezz off?”

Gabriel wouldn’t mind doing both, but Beelzebub’s preference is clear—and so is his body’s rising interest. With the vest gone, he can see that the rest of their shirt is shredded like the sleeves, letting the pale skin of their chest peek through. He grins. “Did you wear this so I could touch you more easily?”

They shrug, but their breath hisses between their teeth when Gabriel’s fingers slip through the holes, and when he pulls them flush against him and presses his mouth to the side of their neck, they let out a moan. He kisses softly, knowing that his still-simmering anger makes his lips feel like a brand.

“More, hurry up, I need more,” they growl in his ear, so he draws the shirt off over their head. Their bodies press together again, skin to skin, and Gabriel lays both his hands flat on their back. It’s a lot of touching, a lot of contact all at once, and he’s not too surprised when they jerk away with a pained cry. He’d let them go, but they’re already pushing back into it, kissing and biting his shoulders, neck, face. Their hands grab his hips and dig in.

“Szhit, yezz,” they gasp. “More.”

So he slides his tongue around the sensitive rim of their ear, feels them quake against his chest. He leaves one hand on their back and grips their ass with the other, pulling them close enough to grind on his cock.

“Yezzz,” they buzz, bucking against him, mouth wet on his chest. “Oh fuck, oh Zzzatan.”

Gabriel goes very still.

It takes Beelzebub a second to register his sudden mood shift. They lean back to look at him, eyes clouded with lust, brow furrowed. “What izz it?”

“You said—” He swallows. Steps back so quickly the demon almost falls forward, has to catch themselves. They’re half-naked, panting, confused. They blink at him for a few more seconds, and finally figure it out.

“Oh fuck’zz zzake, I didn’t—it’z just zzomething I zzay, it’zz not like I wazz _thinking_ about him—”

Gabriel grabs almost blindly for his discarded clothes, his shoes. He can’t bear to look at Beelzebub.

“Are you zzeriouzzly that upzet? Don’t be zztupid, Gabriel, it doezzn’t mean anything!”

 _You’re damn right it doesn’t mean anything,_ he thinks bitterly. _Not to you. But it means way too much to me._

He hates this, this _unfairness_. Beelzebub got all riled up over some silly human trying to flirt with Gabriel, even though they don’t really care about him, just want to hoard him like a shiny toy. And here is Gabriel in fucking _love_ with them, and they cry out _that_ name while he’s touching them, and then they have the gall to not even understand why he’s upset.

He turns to the door. Beelzebub is standing there, skinny arms spread wide to block his way.

“Let me go, Beelz,” he says in a low voice.

“Why?” they demand.

“I’m really fucking angry.”

“Zzo? I like that. You know I do.”

Gabriel closes his eyes. “I might hurt you.”

There it is, the confession. He likes hurting Beelzebub only insofar as it brings them pleasure. He doesn’t want to damage them. Doesn’t want to destroy them. Even though he _should_ want those things, _did_ want them once. Not anymore.

But the way he’s feeling right now . . . “I mean, I might really hurt you.”

“Azz if you could.” He feels Beelzebub’s palms slap against his chest, opens his eyes to see them smirking. “Do your worzzt, archangel. I’m the Lord Fucking Beelzebub.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that Gabriel’s feelings here are not 100% consistent with his subsequent cluelessness in [Make Game of That](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129728/chapters/50283776), but hey, it’s my self-indulgent smut and I’ll be inconsistent if I want to. ;P
> 
> Title from [John Donne](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44106/holy-sonnets-batter-my-heart-three-persond-god) again, bless his heart. (Or batter it.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Valentine's day, fellow bureaucracy lovers! Have some S M U T

When Gabriel doesn’t move, Beelzebub steps closer and licks one of his nipples, right above where their fingers are splayed out flat. The wet heat of their tongue is a pleasant sensation, but he’s more interested in the way the contact makes their whole body shudder.

“How does it feel?” he asks.

“Like licking a car battery,” they answer. They go for the other nipple, shudder again. “You are pizzed, aren’t you? Can’t wait to feel your cock.”

“Get it out, then.” The coldness of his own voice surprises him.

Beelzebub yanks at his slacks, looking eager enough to sink to their knees right here, but that’s not how Gabriel wants this to go. He curls his fingers around their shoulders, taking in their gasp of pain. “Now yours. Get those off.”

They shimmy out of the iridescent fabric, leaving it pooled at their feet. Then they look at Gabriel impatiently. “Are you going to do anything, or am I zzuppozzed—”

He slams them back against the door, cutting them off with a brutal kiss, tongue in their mouth, cock bumping their belly. He slides one hand into their hair, exploring the texture of the undercut, making sure to press his fingers against the tender skin around their ear, at the back of their neck.

Beelzebub moans as his other hand scoops under their ass, lifting easily. Their back is braced against the door and their legs hitch up around his waist. He can see their cunt open for him, wet and ready, and it’s almost too easy to line up his cock and shove right in.

“Yezz, _fuck_ , Gabriel—”

“That’s it. Say _my_ name.” The hand that was in their hair fits nicely around their throat, almost all the way around. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds it there, enjoying how their eyes widen. “I’ll make you scream it before we’re through.”

“I don’t—” Beelzebub begins some kind of objection, but Gabriel doesn’t want to hear it. He shuts them up with another kiss and starts fucking them against the door.

For thousands of years he considered the human obsession with sex to be utter foolishness, but it doesn’t seem at all foolish now. Every slide of his cock through the tight muscles of Beelzebub’s cunt lights him up with a strange kind of pleasure. It’s delight tangled with need, getting more and more urgent the faster he moves. The demon’s hands clutch his shoulders and their teeth catch on their own lips as his thrusts punch out their words. “More—ffffffuck— _harder_.”

Gabriel releases Beelzebub’s neck to rake his fingers down their chest, pinching both nipples on his way. He finds the trail of sparse hair on their belly, follows it down still further, and gets a thumb on their clit. They clench around him, whimpering. He doesn’t even have to move his thumb, just presses it down as his hips keep working, and a few seconds later Beelzebub comes with a strangled cry.

He doesn’t stop. He’s pounding into them so hard the door starts to creak, and he still wants more. He wants to get inside Beelzebub and fuck them up, the way he’s all fucked up over them. So he tilts his head for a deeper kiss, shifting the hand under their ass until he finds their hole, probing at it with one finger. Their nails dig into his shoulders as he works his way in. It’s almost enough—his tongue in their mouth, his cock in their cunt, and his finger in their ass—it’s _almost_ enough to make up for the fact that he will never get into their heart.

If they even have a heart.

Gabriel comes like that, thinking dark and angry thoughts. He pumps the hot rush of it into Beelzebub with a few last vicious thrusts, and the door shivers and cracks right down the middle.

“Szon of a bitch,” croaks Beelzebub, on a near-hysterical edge of laughter. “Are you trying to fuck me into the hallway?”

Gabriel doesn’t even smile, but he does pull out and let Beelzebub settle back on their feet, watching his come spill down their shaky legs. Then he reaches past them to place his palm on the door. With a moment’s concentration, it’s as good as new.

“Oh Lord, heal thizz door,” mocks Beelzebub, still catching their breath. “You know, there izz a perfectly acczeptable bed in thizz room.”

“There _was_ ,” Gabriel corrects. He takes the demon prince by the shoulders again and walks them over to it. “Until you got it dirty. I should have you lick those chocolate stains off.”

“Szzo bozzy.” They climb onto the bed, and Gabriel follows. “I’d rather lick you off.”

“You’re going to do more than lick.” He maneuvers Beelzebub onto their back and straddles their chest, letting his weight crush them into the mattress. Their hands grip his thighs, anchoring him in place as their eyes fixate on the glistening cock inches from their chin.

Beelzebub is responsible for pretty much all of Gabriel’s sex education, and they never bothered to mention refractory periods. So he’s still achingly hard, leaking out the tip. He slides forward to paint their chin and lips.

“I don’t care who else you’re fucking,” he says, bending the truth in the name of self-preservation. He can’t let himself care, because for all he knows Beelzebub is taking a different demon to bed every day of the week, and he has no power to stop them. “But when you’re with me, the only name I want to hear is mine.”

“I’m not—”

Gabriel presses two fingers into their mouth, holding their tongue down. Whatever they’re going to say, he’s not interested. He snarls, “I’m going to fuck myself so deep down your throat you won’t be _able_ to say anyone else’s name.”

Part of him is horrified at what he’s saying, what he’s _doing_ , but he’s too far gone to turn back now. And Beelzebub certainly doesn’t want him to. When he takes out his fingers, they instantly start to mouth at his cock, tongue sliding messily over the head. If this is wrong—if this is a hundred kinds of fucked up, and Gabriel knows that it is—at least they’re both equally lost to it.

He pushes in. Beelzebub’s lips stretch beautifully, and the suction is exquisite. He pauses halfway to brush the hair back from their face. “Look at you, Lord Beelzebub,” he taunts. “Sucking my dick like you were made for it.”

They make a growling buzz around his cock, which probably means they’re pissed off but also feels absolutely amazing. Their hands move from his thighs to his ass, tugging him unmistakably closer. So he buries himself to the base. The head of his cock bumps the back of their throat and they gag on it, tongue pushing frantically at the intrusion even as their hands hold him there. Although Gabriel has come once already, he can tell he’s not going to last long, not with the wild hunger in Beelzebub’s eyes and the spit dribbling from the corners of their mouth. 

“You’re adorable like this,” he says. He does literally adore them, but he’s not about to say _that_. “Pinned under me, taking everything I give you.” He pulls out just a little and shoves back in. “Right. Where. You. _Belong_.”

Beelzebub’s hands scrabble at his hips, pulling him deeper still. Their tongue does something obscene that he can’t even describe, and with a gasp he comes again, shooting down their throat.

He stays there for a few seconds, breathing heavily as they swallow the last of it. Then he draws back and settles himself on the bed next to Beelzebub, head propped up so he can savor their reddened lips and cheeks, their sweat-sticky body.

“You zzick fucker,” the demon rasps, but they couldn’t look more pleased.

Gabriel squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He feels a sort of weightless vertigo, almost like flying. He’s behaved abominably, he knows, but Beelzebub liked it, so does that make it good? Or does the approval of a demon prince just make it worse?

He’s still struggling to sort it out when Beelzebub pokes him sharply in the ribs. “You haven’t made me zzcream yet.”

The archangel’s eyes snap open. 

“Here, I’ll give you a hint.” Their hand slides down their belly, through the wet sticky mess of their cunt, and further back. They bend one knee to give him a better view as they tap their hole. “That’zz your bezzt chanzze.”

“I’ve never—”

“I know you’ve never.” Beelzebub rolls their eyes. “D’you think I don’t keep track of what we do?”

Of course Gabriel hasn’t had sex with anyone else; he’d never even tried sexuality until Beelzebub goaded him into it. He doesn’t _want_ to try it with anyone else. But he feels uncomfortably exposed to hear it acknowledged so plainly, that _he’s_ exclusive when Beelzebub could be doing God knows what with Satan knows whom. Or, more than likely, with Satan himself.

“Get your fingerzz wet,” Beelzebub is instructing him, “And zztart with one. Like you did againzzt the door, only don’t _zztop_.”

Despite the clear invitation of their sopping cunt, Gabriel decides to wet his fingers in Beelzebub’s mouth instead, still raw and swollen from the face-fucking he gave them. They scowl when he pushes his fingers past their lips, but lick them all over anyway.

It’s not too hard to open their other entrance, as it turns out. Gabriel works in one finger, then another, sliding carefully back and forth, twisting a bit to get the knuckles in. Beelzebub makes sweet little mewling sounds as he stretches them.

He’s in no hurry, but the demon never wants to let him take his time. “All right. I’m ready,” they snap, turning onto their hands and knees. Gabriel isn’t so sure; their body still feels tight and even their voice sounds tight. But they’re the one who knows what they’re doing, presumably because they’ve done this before.

Admiring their beautiful body all spread out for him, Gabriel can’t help wondering who else has seen them like this, open and impatient and greedy.

He knows who else. The actual goddamn Devil.

With another flare of jealous rage, Gabriel clamps his hands on their hips and forces the head of his cock into their hole. He doesn't know how deep he can go, but Beelzebub whines and shoves back against him, and he shoves forward, and between the two of them they get him seated balls-deep.

The prince’s whole body is taut, their hands white-knuckled on the sheets, shallow pants escaping their mouth. Gabriel wants to ask if they’re okay, if he should stop, but they’ve made it clear that they don’t appreciate those kinds of questions. So he holds himself still, buried inside their tense heat, letting the seconds tick by until Beelzebub looks over their shoulder with a sneer.

“What the fuck are you waiting for,” they manage to get out. “Thought you were _zzo angry_.”

Well, they’re not wrong. Gabriel slides out nearly all the way, relishing the hot drag of their skin along his cock, and then slams back in. Beelzebub lets out a very satisfying yelp. Not quite a scream. He does it again, and they bury their head in their arms, muffling their sounds.

So on the next thrust Gabriel reaches forward and grabs a handful of hair, dragging their head up and back. They moan, loud and low, like he’s tearing the sound out of them. “Pleazze, fuck, it’zz—Gabriel, it hurtzzz, it _burnzzz_ —”

None of those words are _stop_. None of them are _slow down_. Gabriel gets a firmer grip on their hair, pulls harder. “And you love it, don’t you? You’re such a slut for pain.”

“Ah, fuck! _Gabriel!_ ” There. That’s definitely a scream. The archangel smiles and picks up his pace. Beelzebub’s hips push desperately back against his, their hand moving between their legs.

Gabriel reaches around to slap it away. “I’ll do that. _Mine._ ” He pauses his thrusts just long enough to get his finger settled on their clit. Then he starts to rub, rocking their body between his hand and his cock.

Beelzebub’s nails tear through the sheets, and another scream rips from their throat as they come, their whole body shaking. Gabriel fucks them right through it and then some. He releases their hair to let their head rest on the bed even as he slams into them harder, chasing his own pleasure to the sound of their quiet whimpers.

Finally he hits the peak and tumbles over, filling them up for the third time that night. He lets the last pulses fade and takes a few deep breaths before easing out and dropping onto his back. 

Beelzebub curls up gingerly on their side, facing him without touching. The expression on their face borders on affectionate. “You’re a real prick, Gabriel, anyone ever tell you that?”

He smiles back at them fondly. “You have. A few times.”

“Well, I’m right.”

Gabriel’s hands itch to pull Beelzebub closer, but he contents himself with drinking in the sight of them. The long side of their hair is a wreck, tangled and sweaty, and their ass and thighs are slick, cooling to sticky. He knows they like it when he makes a mess of them, and he can’t deny the appeal. But he also wants to hold them like a precious thing. He wants to caress them with all the tenderness in the world. 

In fact, if he keeps lying here next to Beelzebub, he’s going to do something stupid like try to spoon with them, so he gets up. “I’ll take a shower.”

He doesn’t need to, could clean himself with a miracle, but that would be frivolous. More importantly, it wouldn’t give Beelzebub a chance to leave. Not that they’ve been shy about ditching Gabriel to his face in the past. He’d just rather not see it tonight; he feels too fragile. One kind of desire has been very much satisfied, but another kind, the desire to cherish and adore, is bubbling closer to the surface than he usually allows.

So he closes the bathroom door, turns on the hot water, and concentrates on scrubbing every inch of his bodily temple. The shower must be louder than he realizes, because he doesn’t hear the room door open and close. He’s grateful for that. Maybe when he steps out, he can imagine he’s on a solo business trip. He can tidy the bed and pretend nothing untoward ever happened in it.

But when he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist and steam rising from his shoulders, he’s shocked to find Beelzebub hasn’t left. Instead, they’ve ransacked the minibar, and they’re sprawled on the bed eating crisps and slurping some sugary soda while they flip through channels on the TV.

“You’re staying, then,” he says, and immediately wants to kick himself. Sometimes Beelzebub will do things like this if he doesn’t call attention to it. After their first time, they actually _cuddled_ with him until he pointed it out. He hasn’t been able to get a good cuddle since.

Luckily, this time it doesn’t scare Beelzebub off. They just comment with their mouth full, “Be a szhame to let all thizz free food go to wazzte.”

“It’s not free, Beelzebub,” he points out, easing onto the bed beside them. “I’m paying for it.”

“Even better.” They keep snapping their fingers to change the channel, either unaware of the remote or too lazy to bother with it. “Ugh. Politiczz, reality szhowzz, talk szhowzz. It’zz all the zzame szhit.”

“If you don’t like any of this, why don’t we watch _The Sound of Music_?” Gabriel is floundering, almost wishing that Beelzebub hadn’t stayed because of what it’s doing to his heart, and he could use the comfort of his favorite film right now.

“I’ve never zzeen it,” says Beelzebub, so he uses an entirely frivolous miracle to put it on.

Before long, Beelzebub is throwing peanuts at the screen and insulting all the characters while Gabriel sings along, and he’s not sure he’s ever enjoyed the movie more.

Three hours later the Von Trapp family hikes off into the Alps to the tune of “Climb Ev'ry Mountain,” and Gabriel realizes that he hasn’t seen any projectiles strike the TV for a while, or heard any blistering commentary. He looks over to see that Beelzebub has fallen asleep, flat on their stomach, head pillowed on their arms.

And their flies have finally come out. A few crawl peacefully over Beelzebub's back while several more make lazy loops through the air, buzzing in harmony with the demon's gentle snores.

Gabriel’s heart seizes up. He’s never seen Beelzebub sleep. Didn’t know they went in for it, although with how much like they like to eat and fuck it shouldn’t be a surprise.

It also shouldn’t be a surprise that the sight of it makes him fall even more hopelessly in love with them.

His hand is hovering over Beelzebub, ready to smooth their hair, before he recalls giving it the instruction to move. His fingers tremble slightly as he thinks of all the things he could do to them while they sleep. He could tuck them under the covers and slide in beside them. He could insinuate his arms around them and whisper his love into their skin.

A fly lands on the back of Gabriel’s hand, pausing to groom its legs and antennae. He wonders wildly if this counts as an invitation.

Then the fly takes off and he regains his senses. His hand drops to the bed. Beelzebub isn’t interested in any of that stuff, and he’ll be damned if he sits here like an idiot craving something he can’t have.

So he gets up, gets dressed, and slips out the door. Beelzebub will text him in a couple of weeks, maybe, or a month. They’re both extremely busy non-human entities. It’s fine.

It’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorrrryyyy, ugh I made me sad too. Brb gotta reread Let Me Love for the happy ending.
> 
> That was the filthiest thing I've ever written. I am proud and ashamed in equal measures. Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know if you liked it! (Unless you know me irl, then let's pretend this never happened.)


End file.
